Potential
by WhimsicalShmoo
Summary: Kakashi has fun assigning lab partners for a project. SasuNaru if you choose to take it that way, but really just friendship. AU


**I actually wrote this as a short story(very short) for 8th grade english...with altered names and appearances. Rediscovered it, decided to post it. Yep. Enjoy. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.**

* * *

"This'll be a cinch!" I exclaim, crossing my arms as I lean back in my lab chair, teetering on the verge of falling. Laughter greets my remark.

"Right…" my science teacher replies, unfazed, before continuing, "Since this is the first project of the year, I'll be picking your lab partners." A concerted groan arises from the class and the corners of Mr. Hatake's mouth twitch upwards; he had anticipated this reaction more or less. His eye roams over the array of 3 by 4 lab tables before him, a single orb of both frivolity and sternness, the other covered by a makeshift eye patch of sorts. Silence soon falls. "As I was saying, until I'm sure you guys can behave accordingly, I will pick who you work with. Now then…Mr. Sabaku and Miss Hyuuga."

A girl, her hair long and dark turns to a boy across from her, he himself red-headed and pale. Several more pairings occur in this fashion, as I sit at my table impatiently, tapping my pencil against the durable, coal-black countertop. Agitatedly, I allow my cerulean eyes to flit over the room's assembly. As long as it's not him, that dark-haired demon that makes my life miserable, I will be fine. Sasuke; that is the name of the accursed jerk. _As long as it's not him…_

"Mr. Uzumaki and…" at the sound of my name I glance up at my teacher, his expressive nebulous gray eye gliding ceaselessly over the printed page in his hand as I anxiously await my partner's name. "Mr. Uchiha."

My tapping terminates. Mr. Hatake's face exhibits a slight smirk, as if he had known of our rivalry and arranged his decision as he saw fit. My pupils dilate with a mixture of aggravation and rage. Furious, I whirl to glare at the Uchiha, my resentful gaze finding its way to his desk. Sasuke responds by meeting my eyes, his pale face, a countenance so many of the girls swoon over, set in a mask of indifferent boredom.

"Mr. Uzumaki?" I spin around to find none other than that pest of a teacher with his usual annoyingly cheerful grin. "I said, 'Let's get to work!' That includes you, Mr. Uzumaki. Now let's get to it!"

Inwardly seething, I leap to the floor, prowling over to the stolid Uchiha, a lion ready to kill. Feet from the pale teenager, I hesitate, unsure whether or not my planned action will prove beneficial in the future. After all, he _is_ my partner, no matter how displeased I am with the concept. But I disregard this fact, resuming my march. "Hey, _Sasuke_," it is spat with the most flippancy I can muster, as I plop on the stool beside him.

"Loser," he acknowledges, folding his arms over his chest, a sardonic smirk creeping onto his features, "I _had_ hoped for an intelligent partner this time."

"Shut up, jerk," I counter irately, feeling my fuse burn shorter as my fists clench, "look, we're partners. If you want an A++ like you get on all your other projects, I suggest you figure something out." My spirit lifts. By the momentary lapse of his emotionless masquerade, I can see that statement got inside his thick head.

"Your house," it's not a question, it's a command, but I'm not about to allow my blood-enemy into my home.

"Yours," I return, unable to keep the impudent grin from my impish features, my self-assurance overpowering. His agitation is apparent by the way he narrows those bottomless eyes of his, so dark a grey that they appear nearly black.

"Fine," I expected more of an effort on his part; oh well. It makes my life easier. The bell rings, and he hisses something along the lines of, "5 o'clock. Be there."

Swiftly collecting his books, Sasuke exits the classroom, his guise once again in place, concealing any slight sentiment he might have happened to possess at that moment. Within seconds, he is gone, swept away among the hordes of students we call hallways.

I scratch the back of my head, staring with obvious bewilderment at the counter in front of me as the first few students enter. For some reason, I have a foreboding feeling about tonight, apart from my usual dislike of being present within ten feet of the Uchiha. Class is starting, though; I can't remain here forever to contemplate this occurrence. With melancholic resign, I brush off the sensation as best I can, plastering a false grin on my mischievous visage. Sasuke is not the only one with a mask.

* * *

"I said I was sorry, didn't I?" He frowns, uttering another of those beyond infuriating "hn's" of his, and I inhale deeply before continuing, trying desperately to maintain a level head. "What more do you want from me?"

"Well, maybe if you weren't such a nosy idiot, we wouldn't be having this disagreement," his tone is cool and apathetic, though I can sense the underlying hurt. When I came across the photos, I should have thought better than to inquire, but how was I supposed to know they were his parents? It's not like I _knew_ he was an orphan—well…that's a lie. Everyone in the whole school knows, and I'm no exception. But does he really have to react so much over such a trivial detail?

"Look," he doesn't, of course, choosing instead to face the opposite direction, though it's not as if I expected different. "We need to finish this project. I'm sorry for intruding on your privacy, but just forgive me, or at least forget it, until this is over, OK?"

"Whatever," he mutters, stuffing his hands in his pockets and taking a few paces away, as if even existing in the vicinity of me is a loathsome concept.

I sigh, knowing that's the closet I'm going to get to forgiveness from him. Students begin to file into the classroom, and I return to my work_. This is going to be one _heck _of a project_, I muse, knowing the chances of Sasuke actually _helping_ me are slim. But I can get through this. Even if I have to do the whole project on my own.

"Idiot," the test tube is taken abruptly from my hand and I turn to see Sasuke, his midnight eyes downcast, as if embarrassed to be seen near me. "You're doing it wrong." Expertly, he pours a second test tube into the first; the greenish substance turns a sky blue, before he hands the item back to me. I smile, knowing that in his own _weird_ way, he's apologizing for over-reacting earlier, and I'm glad. Perhaps this project won't be as difficult as I originally thought.

* * *

"And that is how you create magnesium sulfide," I finish as Sasuke completes the process, earning several cheers from the class accompanied by a general round of applause.

"Very good, boys," Mr. Hatake compliments, clapping his own hands together in appreciation, before swiveling in his office chair to face the rest of the room's assemblage. "Reflections are due tomorrow! Class is dismissed; have a good afternoon!"

With a light-heart, I gather my books, glancing momentarily at the doorway to catch a glimpse of his raven hair disappearing around the corner. Absently, I allow my hand to brush my cheek where he had punched me not even a week prior. The bruise has yet to disappear; remarkable what a few questions about the wrong topic can do. But unlike the mark, soon to vanish as does the brisk snowfall on an autumn day much too warm, I have a feeling the outcome of Mr. Hatake's wry sense of humor will resist fading for quite awhile yet.

Uchiha is a jerk; I am a loser. And perhaps we are not so different after all.


End file.
